


This Could Be the Start of Something Big

by RileyC



Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, New Year's Eve, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:25:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate meet Destiny, take 308...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Could Be the Start of Something Big

"I hate New Year’s Eve,” Toby proclaimed, leaning up against the bar.

Resplendent in a crisp white shirt, black vest and matching bow tie, the bartender gave him a look. “Why’s that?”

“Amateur Drunk Night.” Did eyes that shade of blue really occur in Nature?

“Take it you’re in the professional league?”

“Damn right. Drinking skills honed to perfection. I could medal in it at the Olympics.” Toby supposed that would be funnier if it didn’t also happen to be true.

“They got stupider competitions going on,” the bartender said, giving him a long look over, seeming to linger quite awhile on the party hat ever so slightly askew on Toby’s head. “Get ya some black coffee?”

“Maybe something a little stronger?”

As if it was his business, the bartender asked, “You driving tonight?”

“I’m a lawyer; the chances of you being held responsible if anything happened are slim to nil.”

“Good to know -- but it’d be a lousy way to kick off a new year, making cops have to scrape you up off the pavement.”

Toby blinked, playing that back a couple of times in his head. “Wow, I’m almost touched by your concern.”

A smile flashed in the handsome face: strong white teeth, a hint of dimple, blue eyes even brighter. “What’s a guy like you getting polluted for on New Year’s Eve?”

A guy like him? Toby pulled a face, wondering why this stranger cared when no one else ever did. “I’m Toby,” he said, sticking out his hand.

The bartender looked at him, looked at the hand, gave him a shake. “Chris. So?”

“So…” Toby sighed, shoulders slumping. “My life sucks.”

“Yeah? And that makes you different from ninety-nine point nine percent of everybody else how?”

Toby gave him a hard look. “Aren’t you supposed to be more sympathetic?” And, damn: he was going to need a new pair of glasses, these kept blurring up on him.

“Wasn’t in the job description.”

“My life came with a job description,” Toby said. “I was supposed to be poised and polite, excel at everything I did, graduate top of my class at Harvard Law, marry a reasonable facsimile to Barbie and produce beautiful, perfect children--”

“If she’s Barbie, does that make you Ken?”

“Why not? It feels like someone cut my balls off.”

That got another smile. Something more intimate this time, like they were sharing a private joke. “So what went wrong?”

“Not a damn thing. Perfection was achieved.”

Blue eyes more sober, as if he really got it, Chris asked, “For everyone but you?”

Toby sighed, nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.” He blew out another breath, really wishing for another drink but suspecting he would have to locate it elsewhere. “Now -- no marriage, I hardly see my kids, my career’s going nowhere, and I’m supposed to get out there and meet someone new. I don’t know how to date. I don’t know how to anything anymore.”  
And God, could he have sounded anymore pitiful and sorry for himself?

“Well,” Chris was looking him over again, apparently choosing to refuse the invite to the pity party, “you could start with losing that damn hat.”

Toby stared back at him. “What’s wrong with the damn hat?”

“You mean, besides how it makes you look like a ten-year-old dork?”

Toby snorted. “It’s not the hat, trust me.” Still, he obliged and removed it, beginning to feel uncomfortable under the other man’s intense scrutiny. “See,” he said, to try and deflect that, “now I look like a thirtysomething dork.”

“Hmm, nope, that’s not the word I’m thinking of,” Chris said, and the way he said it, the way he was looking at Toby…

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Look at me like…” Toby swallowed, looked around for an escape route, wondering how they had gotten to be so very much alone in this little corner of the hotel bar, with Chris looming so very near.

“Like…?”

“Like… Like you’re the Big Bad Wolf and I’m…” No, he wasn’t going to say it.

“What if I huffed, and I puffed?” Chris said, accenting it with a warm, soft exhalation of breath that caressed his cheek.

Not going there. Oh no no no no… “Listen, I have … to … call a cab.”

One corner of Chris’ mouth twitched. “Okay.”

“It’s just,” Toby babbled as he backed away, “you know, getting to be that time.”

“Sure.”

“I mean,” yep, still babbling, “it’s been good talking to you, Chris, and--”

“You got somebody to kiss?”

He blinked, stared, blinked some more. “What?”

“It’s thirty seconds to New Year’s. Got someone to kiss when the clock strikes midnight?”

“I … hadn’t thought about it.”

_Eleven … ten … nine … eight …_

“Think about it,” Chris murmured, stepping close, cupping one hand around Toby’s neck.

_Seven … six … five … four…_

“Thinking about it?” Long fingers stroked the nape of Toby’s neck, a shiver racing down his spine.

“Maybe a little.”

Chris smiled.

_Three … two … one…_

“Happy New Year,” Chris murmured, lips rushing his, and when he might have pulled away, Toby dragged him back for seconds.

“This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me,” he whispered.

“Sure about that?” Chris said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Well,” Toby stole another kiss, “I could be drunk.”

“So,” Chris pilfered a kiss for himself, “we’ll try it again when you’re sober, just to make sure.”


End file.
